"Then you'll be hunted to the ends of the earth by every law enforcement agency on the continent," Plague says matter-of-factly. "Your faces will be on wanted posters from here to Columbia. You'll never know a moment's peace."
Geo spits into the sand. "Sounds like another Tuesday in paradise."
"Perhaps," Plague concedes. "But consider this. As Ghosts, you'd have resources. Protection. Purpose. And your omega would be safe. Considering it's only a matter of time before Arthur Maybrecht comes calling for his daughter, that's something you should think about very carefully."
Your omega.
I bristle at the term coming from him. But I can't quite bring myself to argue it. Not when I'm starting to think of these four asmyalphas.
I can see it in their faces. Geo's grudging consideration. Nikolai's almost bored assessment of the odds. Raven's thoughtful expression as he weighs the pros and cons with a finger to his lips.
Even Knight seems to understand that this might be our best option. His grip on my hand tightens slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to let me know he's listening even though his mind still seems slightly hazy.
"What would we be doing?" Geo asks. "Exactly?"
"What we've always done," Thane answers. "The jobs no one else can handle. The missions that require... unconventional methods."
"Black ops," Nikolai translates. And I guess he and Geo know these bastards better than any of us. "Assassination. Sabotage. The kind of shit that never makes it into the official reports."
"And in exchange?" Raven asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Immunity," Plague says. "Full pardons for your past crimes. New identities if you want them. Housing, medical care, equipment. Everything you need to disappear into new lives once you've served your time."
"And how long would that be?" Geo demands.
Plague considers it, glancing at the watch hidden beneath his sleeve. "Let's call it five years. One for every hour I've been away from our mate."
"You've got to be kidding," Raven mutters. "That's half a decade."
"And hanging is forever," Plague says in an unnervingly pleasant tone. "Take it or leave it."
The alphas look at each other. Then at me.
It's tempting. Gods help me, it's actually tempting.
But in addition to whatever clusterfuck being the new Ghosts involves, that means this tentative arrangement between us becomes permanent. Or at least as permanent as anything ever gets out here.
It means we'd be a team. A pack.
And by the goddess, I hate myself for the tiny part of me that likes the sound of that. But that doesn't mean the men around me will agree. I mean, I'm pretty sure I know where Knight stands. Very sure. But the others…
Is this where they draw the line? Decide they've had enough of the troublesome little omega who might not be worth all the trouble after all?
As the four of them exchange another glance, I brace myself for the answer. Scent match or no, this is where most alphas would check out.
"Do we get masks?" Raven asks.
Plague gives a sharp laugh that echoes in the winds. "Consider it a job requirement."
"I'm not wearing the bird mask," Geo grumbles.
Plague arches an eyebrow. "That wasn't an option."
"Beats hanging, I guess," Nikolai mutters with a dismissive wave that suggests he's got better things to do.
Knight growls softly in assent, even though he keeps glancing warily at Wraith, who looks oddly… hopeful and bright-eyed above the scarf he's adjusting over his scarred lower face and exposed sharp teeth.
These alphas are fucking weird. Even for alphas.
